


Temper

by ultharkitty



Series: Combaticons on Charr [3]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In ‘The Five Faces of Darkness, part 2’, Vortex says something particularly dumb and Swindle has a go at him for it - in this, Vortex gets (petty) revenge.</p><p>Beta'd by naboru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temper

“Vortex, you’re an idiot.” Swindle slumped, his helm knocking a chunk out of the wall behind him. “I mean a real, honest to fraggin’ goodness _idiot_. Why the slag do you think your gun doesn’t work? You’re worse than Brawl.”

Brawl gave Swindle the finger, a gesture he’d evidently learnt back on Earth. Vortex merely glared.

“And another thing,” Swindle began, but Onslaught cut him off.

“We don’t care,” he said. “Be quiet, save your strength.”

Swindle barked a bitter laugh. “What the slag _for_? Cyclonus took our energon. We’ve got no fuel, no way of getting off this scrap heap. No off-world comms. This is the fraggin’ _pit_.”

“I said be quiet.” There was a subtle change in Onslaught’s tone, signalling the speedy erosion of his temper.

Vortex grinned under his mask; this could get interesting. If only he had a way of goading Swindle without Onslaught finding out. Sitting between them, performing basic maintenance on his cannon, Blast Off gave a minute shake of his head, as though he could tell what Vortex had in mind. Perhaps he wasn’t as blind to the group dynamic as he pretended to be.

Across the way, Swindle resumed staring into space. Probably calculating their worth on the Intergalactic spare parts market. He could be a condescending piece of scrap at times, and this past joor had been one of those times. All Vortex had to do was make one dumb-aft comment about his gun not working properly, and Swindle laid straight into him. In public. Anyone else, he could just ignore, but not Swindle.

He dug around in the litter at his feet and retrieved a shard of glass. Blackened on one side, it made a decent mirror. He diverted more of his remaining charge than he should have into his optics, increasing their brightness, and directed the reflected light at Swindle’s face.

Swindle tensed, looking around.

Vortex stopped, waiting for Swindle to relax again. It didn’t take long. After performing what basic maintenance they could, there was nothing to do, just sit around and wait for Cyclonus to come back.

If he was coming back.

Vortex focused the light again, shining it into Swindle’s optics.

Swindle twitched. He gave Vortex a suspicious glance, his lips set in a thin little line. Vortex did it again.

“You blasted fragger!” Swindle launched himself from the wall, aiming his scatter blaster, his finger squeezing the trigger. “You can’t slaggin’ well quit it, can you?” He snarled as his weapon, predictably, spat a few desultory sparks and died. Then swore as Onslaught’s fist caught him in the side of the helm, sending him sprawling.

Onslaught stood over him, hands on his hips. “I said, _be quiet_.”

Over on the other side of the ruin, Brawl winced in sympathy, then started laughing.

Vortex smirked and palmed the glass; it could be useful later. Blast Off simply sighed.


End file.
